


A hole in her world?

by millygal



Series: Agent Winchester [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 00:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: They owe her this, even if they want to run in the opposite direction.





	A hole in her world?

**Author's Note:**

> Coda for my MCU/SPN fic - Agent Winchester. Thank you to jj1564 for the beta and sw0rdy for the read through, much appreciated, ladies <3 This argued with me, a LOT, but I knew I wanted to write it. It's a bastardisation of that moment Steve finally talks to an aged Peggy, and I've sneaked the timelines. It's actually set within the First Avenger/Avengers timeline rather than Winter Soldier.

Steve Grant Rogers has faced down crazy Nazi maniacs with magical powers and red skin, he’s walked into gun fire and situations that could well have wiped him off the face of the planet, spent decades encased in ice and survived to tell the tale, so _why_ is he hovering in the doorway of an assisted living facility and fidgeting like a school boy?

It’s only Peggy.

Except - there is nothing **only** about Peggy Carter.

During the time he was frozen, cut off from a world rapidly reshaping itself around him, Peggy had adventures Steve can’t even fathom. She not only helped found S.H.I.E.L.D but she completely shattered the glass ceiling of an institution that was determined not to recognise her creativity and intelligence.

She’s a damned legend.

He’s generally regarded as a _hero_ , a description he’s not wholly comfortable with, but Steve feels like absolutely nothing when faced with a woman like Peggy Carter.

Steve remembers so clearly the moments before he plummeted into the water, how Peggy’s voice kept him from cracking, from begging for a chance to see Bucky one last time.

_”Please don’t do this, we have time, we can work it out - “_

_“Right now I’m in the middle of nowhere, if I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice….Peggy?”_

_“I'm here.”_

_“I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance.”_

_“Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club. I know I’m not your preferred partner but - ”_

_“You got it.”_

_“Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late! Understood?”_

_“You know, I still don't know how to dance. Bucky always - “_

_“I'll show you how. Just be there.”_

_“You'll have the band play somethin' slow. I'd hate to step on your…”_

She was and always will be one of his best friends and he owes her this.

Dean watches Steve swallow down his trepidation and square his shoulders, and has to bite back his own urge to run for cover, to flee from a woman who could well have become _someone_ in his life.

When he got the call from the Captain asking if he’d like to visit Peggy, Dean almost shouted _hell no_ and punched the disconnect button. It was only Sammy, with his kind, understanding eyes and small, sad smile that forced him to suck it up and agree.

If nothing else, Peggy deserves to know that Dean’s alive **because** of the things she and her Howling Commandos did back in 1944. He’s walking, talking and alive because of her.

Steve walks quietly across the room and pulls out a chair just as Dean steps over the threshold and is suddenly pinned in place by a set of eyes so intense all the air leaves his lungs in one loud painful breath.

“De-Dean? Steve? How is this - how are you - where were you both?”

The white-haired woman who found a place in her heart for him even after he’d broken it, smiles warmly at Steve and reaches for his hand before swinging her head left and regarding Dean, who’s still hovering nervously at the entrance to her room. “Come on in if you’re coming, Agent Winchester.”

Her tone of voice brooks no argument and Dean finds himself grinning, walking forward and perching on the edge of her bed. “Hey Carter, miss me?”

Peggy rolls her eyes and snorts at Dean, whose hand is hovering in mid-air, clearly not entirely sure if he should do as Steve’s doing and grip her fingers. “I see the years haven’t dulled your sense of smugness, Winchester. I won’t break, you know.”

Dean allows his hand to rest gently atop Peggy’s gnarled knuckles and leans forward, dropping a soft chaste kiss against her temple before whispering. “Good to see you, Peg. I hear you kicked it in the ass.”

The scent of Dean is overpowering, even with her senses dulled by her advancing years, and Peggy finds herself whisked away to a time where she was torn between wanting him and knowing she couldn’t keep him. “Dean, I’m so pleased you made it, I was so worried; there was no way to know. But you’re here now and - yes, I’ve missed you.” Turning towards Steve, Peggy squeezes his hand hard and smiles, “Both of you.”

Peggy’s eyes dim for just a moment and then her face breaks out into the most beautiful smile either man has ever seen.

“De-Dean? Steve? How is this - how are you - where were you both?”

The slow but steady disintegration of Peggy’s mental state is painful beyond the telling of it, and Dean doesn’t know how to cope with the holes in her memory, but the feel of Steve’s fingers gripping his free hand across the bed make sure he doesn’t run, doesn’t let her down by fleeing like a coward. “Yeah, Peggy, it’s us, and we’re sorry we’re late.”

“So you should be!”

Steve gently strokes the side of Peggy’s face, points to the many photos adorning her bedside table, and swallows past the lump in his throat. “Looks like you got that dance after all, huh, Peggy?”

“Oh, I danced, Steve, I danced.”


End file.
